In the Dark
by silverotter1
Summary: Hermione struggles with her dark side. Will she succumb? D/Hr, Seventh year, AU, hurt/comfort, Rated T, mild violence, mild sexuality, one-shot.


Title: In the Dark

Author: silverotter1

Summery: Several Vignettes of D/Hr in Sixth Year.

Warnings: PG, mild sexuality, violence, UST, hurt/comfort

Author's Note: Here, I'm practicing beginning a scene with interest and detail. Can I infuse a scene with emotion, imagery and mood with only a few paragraphs? I began each one with a different focus: one with dialogue (usually a no-no), one with descriptive/imagery, one with dramatic tension and one with POV. I also stayed to one character POV per passage. Plus this was what I forced myself to write when my muse wouldn't budge on the Cherry Fest Fic…. I'd been listening to Billy Squire (you may recall the bad boy rocker from the 80's?) and the song "In the Dark" was stuck in my head.

**Please review. Thank you :D**

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In the Dark

"Really, now, do you honestly believe that?" Draco Malfoy was skulking in a dim corner of the Hogwarts Library. He was not alone.

"Well, yes. I do believe it," his companion's voice whispered tartly in his ear.

This girl, this brilliant witch, had not been sorted into Slytherin, his own school House. No, quiet the contrary in fact. She had been destined for his biggest rival's House. Gryffindor. And if the two were caught consorting, they each would most likely fall out of favor with their respective housemates. It was a risk she seemed willing to take.

"Then why are you here. With me. In the dark?" His phrases were punctuated by nips to her neck.

A breathy moan was her only reply. Draco chuckled low in his throat. "Are you afraid of the dark, Hermione?"

A trembling sigh escaped her mouth before she pressed her lips against his, silencing the taunt.

After accepting her warm lips, he withdrew from her. "I think you are. I think the dark frightens you. I think I frighten you." He could tell his teasing words stirred her; and his retreat distressed her. She pressed her body closer, pressed herself firmly against his long, lean body.

"I'm not afraid of you," she whispered. "I'm not afraid of anything." She kissed him then with purpose. Everything this girl did seemed to have purpose. Even when it came to him.

They shared a bizarre and enticing relationship. Surreptitious. Forbidden. Both of them knowing it was going nowhere, but yet each accepting it for what it was—whatever _that_ was.

Twisted. Deranged. Draco often thought those very words described his infatuation with the Golden Girl of Gryffindor Tower. He smirked. She, in her bright golden tower, the shining little Muggleborn, a beacon of righteousness. And he, the antithesis, in the dingy dungeons, the blackest bowels of the castle, pure blood coursing in his veins, dark mark on his pale flesh— he represented all that was base in the magical world.

"Then why should we stop?" He gripped her hips holding her to him. "I know you don't really want me to stop." He ran his hands round her waist to her back cradling her within his black embrace.

With her forehead against his chest, she muffled her reply. "Yes. We have to. It's not right."

*

_Life isn't easy from the singular side  
Down in the hole some emotions are hard to hide  
It's your decision it's a chance that you take  
_

_It's on your head it's a habit that's hard to break  
Do you need a friend, would you tell no lies  
Would you take me in? Are you lonely in the dark...  
_

_*_

The early evening dew licked at her shoes as she traipsed back toward the castle grounds from the Quidditch pitch. It was another afternoon of watching Harry, Ron, and Ginny perfect their maneuvers. They were hitting the locker rooms while she headed to the tower. She shivered, pulling her woolen cloak about her shoulders. She had sat, nearly motionless, in the stands. That, along with the cool autumn air, had chilled and stiffened her body.

He came out of nowhere.

"Granger, come with me."

"Malfoy!" She jumped; nearly toppling—and she would have if it weren't for the fact that he'd grabbed her from behind. "Someone will see!"

"No one's about. This way…" He tossed his head toward a clump of briers and brambles, shady in the dying sunlight.

As soon as they were hidden, she tore from his grip. "What in hell do you think you're doing? We agreed not to associate outside of planned meetings." The fire flashed behind her eyes, arousing more than a heated retort from Draco.

"I saw you, in the stands. I wanted you. That's all." He snaked an arm round her waist and she turned from him. He took advantage, pulling her back up flush against his chest.

She squeezed her eyes tight, tried not to feel the inviting heat radiating from him, tried not to smell his skin as he dipped his head, rubbing his cheek against hers. Or his warm breath as it breezed across her chilled skin.

Yielding to his touch, she laid her head back on his shoulder, exposing her neck. His thin fingers stroked her throat. "Is it so wrong? To feel?" he asked.

"No, but there are things beyond us; beyond…this…" Her body tensed. "…this thing between us."

"This thing between us makes me feel something beside the darkness that drowns me. Don't leave me to it."

"This is wrong," her voice wavered.

"Why?" He spun her round. "Because of who I am? Or who you are?"

With pleading eyes she answered. "Because we lie. We're lying to our friends, our families—to each other." She dropped her gaze.

"No." Draco took her chin in his slim fingers, warm against her icy skin. He tipped her face up to his. "I've never lied to you. Ever." The last word from his lips grazed hers. She felt the vibration from it against her mouth. _Ever._

The sun had dipped below the tree line. Within the confines of the thorny hedge, the darkness closed round them, as they sank down into the damp grass.

*

_You never listen to the voices inside  
They fill your ears as you run to a place to hide  
you're never sure if the illusion is real  
_

_You pinch yourself but the memories are all you feel  
Can you break away from your alibis  
Can you make a play? Will you meet me in the dark..._

_*_

Slow motion. That's what it was like. She could see Ron pulling his fist back, the muscles in his forearm tensing and flexing with kinetic energy. The smacking pop of bone and flesh colliding as his fist connected with Draco's jaw. Draco's head flying back; little droplets of spittle and a bit of blood spewing in an arc.

She heard a booming shout, "Stop! Immediately!" Professors Snape and McGonagall were bearing down on the brawlers with great haste. To Hermione though, it seemed to take ages for them to reach the scuffle.

Each Professor had grabbed a warring student by the scruff of the neck. A hushed silence swept through the Hall. She didn't know what to do. She glanced down at her white knuckles gripping her wand tightly, feeling the heaviness of hundreds of stares. It seemed the entire school was looking at her. Along with Ron and Draco. She kept her eyes averted, prolonging the choice she was required to make at this very moment. Whose gaze would she return? Whose eyes would she pierce with her own?

*

_You take no interest no opinions too dear  
You make the rounds and you try to be so sincere  
You guard your hopes and you pocket your dreams  
_

_You'd trade it all to avoid an unpleasant scene  
Can you face the fire when you see me there  
Can you feel the fire? Will you love me in the dark..._

_*_

It was Ron. She had walked calmly to his side, weaving her arm through his. The action now finished, the crowd began to murmur. It was over.

"Tell me it's not true." Ron pleaded.

Taking a deep breath, she confessed, "I can't lie to you, Ronald. Let's go somewhere and talk."

They fled the hall and stole into the deserted entrance, ducking under the grand staircase.

"So it _is_ true. You've been with him."

"Not in the way you think. Not… not like _that_."

"Does it even matter, Hermione? You think it's only _your body_ I care about?" he queried. "It's not just that. It's your mind… your heart." The hurt and betrayal on Ron's face was more than she could bear.

There were no words she could say, no apology that would make up for what she had done. The tears welled in her eyes, spilling over and carving glistening tracks down her cheeks.

"Save your tears, Hermione. This must be what you've wanted. Don't try to make me think otherwise." The brusqueness in his voice cut her to the quick. He brushed past her.

"Ron!" she cried, pulling at his shirtsleeve. He tore free from her feeble grasp, not bothering to look back.

Sinking to the floor, she felt the shocking cold of the flagstones. It seemed to swallow her, drain away the warmth.

*

Cold. So very cold. That was the only sensation left. Until she felt warm hands slide under her arms, lift her up from the hard chill of the floor. One strong arm slid round her back, while another caught her under the knees and hoisted her against solid, comfortable, heat.

"Why did you come find me?" she asked weakly, her throat constricted from too many sobs.

"Because I understand you. I know you and why you did what you did." The warmth of his breath ruffled her fringe, tickled her forehead.

"I only wanted to make him understand. I owed him that much… I didn't even get a chance--."

"Shh, it doesn't matter now."

Before long, she was sinking into softness; warm and comforting, his arms around her holding her close; the familiar scent of his skin, the silken feel of his blond hair entwined round her fingers. She sighed and knew she would be okay, with him, in the dark.

END

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**A/N: I hope you enjoyed the allusion to (and somewhat direct) references to different meanings of black/darkness throughout the piece. I wanted to shroud this piece with a sense of gloom and melancholy.**

**Thanks a million to my special friend and beta quidditchref. I dedicate this to Jim and to Elena.**

**3 :) **


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